Tomorrow be Today
by NShadows
Summary: The sequel to Past is Prologue, will be a multi-chapter fic. Claire's opinion changes.
1. Tomorrow Be Today

Still don't own anything Heroes, except for the dvd's. This is a follow-up to Past is Prologue. Let me know how I did!

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><p>Don't ask why I picked this poem, since what I quoted is such a small portion of it, but when I think of how things must change, this always comes to mind. Since this will be a story about how Claire's opinion changes, I thought it was appropriate.<p>

Turn, turn, my wheel! All things must change  
>To something new, to something strange;<br>Nothing that is can pause or stay;  
>The moon will wax, the moon will wane,<br>The mist and cloud will turn to rain,  
>The rain to mist and cloud again,<br>To-morrow be to-day.

Excerpt from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's '_Keramos_'

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><p>Sylar hadn't been sure Noah was going to let him take a personal day, but when Sylar had explained it to him, his former partner had surprisingly understood.<p>

Now he stood amid the falling leaves in the New Jersey cemetery, waiting as his father's coffin was brought to his grave. On the other side of the gravesite, watching him warily, stood Luke. Sylar was doing his damnedest to avoid the younger boys' looks.

A chill from the quickly cooling days raced down his spine. Still, it was instinct more than any power that alerted him to someone coming up behind him. He turned, and stared. Peter and Emma approached him, dressed for a funeral. Peter gave him a sympathetic look. "You didn't think you could keep it secret did you?"

"You didn't have to come."

"No, we didn't." It wasn't Peter that spoke, unless he'd gained the ability for ventriloquism. Sylar looked to see Matt Parkman coming up behind Peter, looking more than a little uncomfortable at his obvious show of support.

Sylar felt a wave of gratitude wash through him, but he only nodded at Matt gravely. He turned back as the minister began to speak. He sighed, and then started as a hand touched his arm hesitantly, offering support. He looked down, startled to see Claire there. He was so shocked at seeing her that he almost accused Parkman of putting him back inside his own head again.

The minister finished speaking and gradually everyone moved away, even Peter and Emma, giving him a moment alone. Claire didn't move though, standing beside him, looking ahead resolutely.

"Why are _you_ here?"

Claire hesitated, and pulled her coat tighter around her. "Have you ever wondered how we would have turned out if our birth parents would have raised us?"

He chuckled, aware of how surreal the whole situation was. "My father was a murderer, Claire. Not sure my life would have been much different."

"Mine would have been. I might have been hunted by Noah Bennet instead of being loved by him. No 'save the cheerleader, save the world.' No carnival, at least not the way it happened."

"Remember my favorite quote by Shakespeare? Everything still happens, just differently. Not sure you and I affected the world that much."

"No? If you had been raised by your dad, you might have started killing earlier. You may have wiped us all out years ago, you _and_ your dad. You killed your mom on accident, it wasn't murder. Your dad _murdered_ your mother. There's a difference."

"I've murdered plenty of people."

"We won't talk about them," she said coolly. He didn't argue. "You've saved a lot of people since the Carnival. The point I'm trying to make, I guess, is you don't murder people anymore. Do you think you would have changed if your dad had raised you?"

He was silent, and then very quietly, he murmured, "He tried to kill me when I met him."

Claire absorbed that. "You didn't kill him, though."

"He had cancer, he was dying already. He didn't deserve me killing him. It would have been a mercy." He looked over at her. "Why are you here Claire?"

She was silent a long moment. "No one deserves to bury their father with no one at their side. Not even you."

"Peter and Emma were coming. You didn't have to."

She looked at him, then quickly away. "I'm the one that told them."

He stared at he profile for several moments, but she obviously wasn't going to add anything to that. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"The sins of the father pass to the son," Claire said quietly. "Maybe it's all evened out now."

"Shakespeare said that. In the bible it's actually the third or fourth generation that pays for the sins." Sylar smirked at her look. "My mother was religious, occasionally."

Claire nodded, then smiled very slightly. "It's not like there's anyone willing to sleep with you, so no worries about third or fourth generation. All safe."

"Do you really want to discuss my sex life?"

"Not even a little," she said, sounding disgusted, and shot him a dirty look. Luke fidgeted several feet away, watching them. "He wants to talk to you, I think."

"Do I have to?"

"Who is he?"

"He… knew my father, led me to him. I threatened to kill him, once. I can always kill him now and make up for it." He knew he sounded almost hopeful, and Claire snorted.

"I'm not worried."

"No?" He was startled at the honesty in her words.

"No." Claire acted before she could talk herself out of it, and grabbed his hand, squeezing lightly. "You'll both be fine. I've got to go."

"How are you getting home?"

"Plane. I'm heading back to school, instead of to the Company. Fall semester just started."

He watched her in silence, his gaze steady on hers. "Did you come here to check up on me, or to comfort me?"

She was silent for a moment, and he wondered if she was remembering his lie-detection ability. "I could have left instead of coming to talk to you. You may never have known I was here." She shrugged. "Peter and Emma were going to come anyway."

"Yeah, why is Parkman here?"

Claire hesitated, looking uncomfortable. "I think he realized you and him have something in common after all."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, asshole dads."

He seemed to consider this for a moment, then shrugged. "I could take you to Virginia."

"Yeah, we'd start arguing halfway there, and you'd drop me to make a point." She motioned at herself. "Not the outfit for Claire pancake."

"I wouldn't drop you," he said, suddenly serious. "Not ever."

Claire hesitated, staring at him a moment, and he wondered what she would say. A million things she could say ran through his mind. Things that might be cruel if they were said to most people, but he might just laugh at. Things that could cut him, because honestly they _did_ know each other that well. Things that might let him know she didn't quite hate him as much as she used to.

Instead she gave a slight sigh. "I'll see you at work, Sylar."

He nodded gravely, and watched her until he couldn't see her anymore. Then he turned to Luke with a sigh. Might as well get it over with while Peter was nearby to keep him from committing murder.

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><p>Just before lunch the next Saturday, Claire heard someone knock on her office door. "Hang on a sec, Dad, just want to finish typing this up."<p>

"You already have lunch plans with Noah?"

She looked up, surprised to see Sylar standing there. "Oh. No, I just assumed it was him. Since I only see him on weekends and everything."

He nodded, looking slightly uncomfortable, maybe even nervous. "I was wondering, do you want to try that new bistro that opened up a couple of blocks over? My treat."

Claire stared at him for a moment. "I don't know if that's a good idea." For a moment disappointment raced across his face before he shrugged and started to turn away. "Wait. That does sound kind of nice. I'll pay for myself, though."

"Okay." He hesitated, watching as she turned off her computer, and grabbed her purse. "Thank you. For coming to my father's funeral."

"Everyone else was going," she reminded him and hesitated. "No offense, but it doesn't make us friends."

"We aren't enemies either, not anymore," he said, pointing it out as the momentous achievement it was.

Claire hesitated. "It wasn't the first move, if that's what you think."

"How did it fall into one of the loopholes? Social occasion? Really?"

Claire frowned. "Can't I just do something nice?"

"If anyone else in your family said that, I'd laugh." He grinned at her. "Doing something nice implies friendship, or at least acquaintance."

"We fight most of the time we're together."

"Well, that implies feeling anyway." He smirked at her look.

"I'll still stick a pencil in your eye if you try anything," she said. "Then I'll tell Peter."

"Not your dad?"

"Like he needs another reason to want to kill you," she rolled her eyes as she followed him to the elevator.

He pulled a pencil out of his pocket, smirking, and handed it to her. "Thinking ahead."

Claire took the pencil, and smiled very slightly at him, following him out into the chilly air.


	2. Yesterday is History

I don't own Heroes, again. Hope everyone is still enjoying this. I am a review lover, so let me know what you think.

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><p>Yesterday is History,<br>'Tis so far away -  
>Yesterday is Poetry -<br>'Tis Philosophy -

Yesterday is mystery -  
>Where it is Today<br>While we shrewdly speculate  
>Flutter both away<p>

- Emily Dickinson

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><p>Claire smiled up at her family from her seat among her fellow graduates. She could see them, her biological, adoptive, and extended family. For a moment, her eyes caught on someone standing at the bottom of the bleachers, but when she moved her head to focus on him, he was gone.<p>

"What is it?"

She looked up at her boyfriend of the past year, Tom, and smiled. "Nothing, thought I saw someone."

Tom smiled and looked back up at the podium where yet another school official was speaking. Tom was a good looking man, and he was good, and normal. Normal is what she had spent so much time craving, because she rarely experienced it.

What was the saying? Be careful what you wish for?

Claire bit back a sigh. She was bored.

Her fall off the ferris wheel over two years ago had opened up a whole new world, and security for her had taken on a new meaning, but eventually, though the politics raged around her, things went back to normal, and she was considered too young to be of any use.

That didn't mean she was written out, even though everyone might prefer it that way. She still knew how to talk her way in. Who was it that had said she was a Petrelli? Well, she was sure as hell a Bennet too. And maybe something neither of the families had known of very often, someone with a conscience.

Her part time job at the Company kept her busy, and surrounded by the people she trusted kept her from being worried. Well, by people she mostly trusted.

When security around her had heightened, she'd expected to be seeing Peter more often. Not necessarily his new roommate though. They'd been working hard at overcoming their past differences. At least, that was the line she fed everyone when asked. Sometimes it was even true.

It wasn't that she was trying to hold everything against him, but even after Peter's story, she couldn't help it. Even after he had stayed in the shadows, keeping his promise to stay away from her.

The man had cut open her head for Christ's sake, not to mention all the other stuff.

Still, sitting, bored, ready to be graduated, she didn't find it hard in that moment to remember he had been trying. The loss of his father had helped her to see that he had feelings too, whatever they might have been towards the other man. Micah had talked to her about him too, explaining about the time Sylar had saved him, and what he had seen. For one afternoon, she'd spent time with him without any violence.

Because face-to-face meetings between them usually ended in anger on one side or another, she had taken to exchanging notes with him on the various dry erase boards they'd both placed at their front doors, at office and at home.

She was startled to have Tom nudge her and frown, and she jumped up joining the line of students crossing the stage. She sighed and smiled, giving a little wave to her family as her eyes still watched the shadows.

They weren't friends, and her father might throw a fit if he knew he was there. It actually made Claire smile a little though. He'd always protect her. He'd said that once, when they were at the new Company. She had glared and scoffed, and stalked away, but she'd never had any harm come to her.

"Claire Bennet," the official intoned into the microphone, and she took a step towards the stage, and then stopped, her eyes widening.

It was snowing. Not heavily, just big flakes slowly drifting down. It was beautiful.

She heard the crowd murmur. Snow hadn't been forecast, no matter how chilly it was in Arlington. Claire smiled, remembering that once, a long time ago, she had mentioned how much she loved New York, because neither Texas nor California got much snow.

She felt something nudge her shoulder, and she turned to it, but nothing was there. Oh, diploma, right. She walked onto the stage, taking her paper, and smiling for the photographers, and stepped back down, grinning as she made her way to her seat.

Though she couldn't see him, she smiled at the shadows, and mouthed thank you. The whirl of snow around her let her know he understood.

Her family took her out to eat after the ceremony was _finally_ over. They joked and spent time together as a family, extended and otherwise. Claire wasn't having too much fun to notice that every so often Peter would tilt his head slightly to the side, as though talking with someone telepathically. It was a move she recognized from Matt.

Guess they'd had that long talk about asshole dads after all.

_You could join us_, she thought, concentrating on the thought with the hope of him hearing her. He can't be far away if Peter's talking to him.

A moment passed, then another. Peter caught her eye and smiled, then turned to Noah. "I heard you sent Sylar out to watch some guy tonight."

For a moment, everyone stilled, then Noah nodded, looking as though he expected this to come up. "It was important."

Claire wondered at this for a moment, then rolled her eyes, understanding. No matter how much she doesn't trust him, Noah would always beat her out as far as hating Sylar.

They all went their separate ways after the dinner, and Claire started making her way to the apartment she shared with Tom. She didn't have any fear of walking alone. She was at her doorway, about to go in, when the air around her shifted, and he was there, looking a little wary.

"Congrats," he muttered, and held out a small gift bag to her.

"Thank you," she said, and didn't hide her surprise.

"I thought you might like it. I understand if you don't."

Claire smiled at him, her good mood still high on her accomplishment. "Want to come in?" Her boyfriend was home, and she'd lost her fear of being alone with him after multiple elevator rides.

"I do need to talk to you." Suddenly he stopped, frowned slightly, and shook his head. "Maybe later though."

She frowned, but before she could speak, her apartment door opened. "Hey, thought I heard your voice, babe. Oh, hey."

Sylar nodded at Tom's greeting, and gave Claire that slow smile of his. "See you later, Claire-Bear."

"Who's that?" Tom asked, his voice gruff and suspicious as Sylar walked away.

"Old friend," she said reflexively, watching him stop at the end of the hall, waiting for the elevator like a normal person.

"Yeah?"

Claire rolled her eyes at the barely veiled jealousy in her boyfriend's voice. "No. He killed my parents, and cut the top of my head off once. Not to mention he's the bad guy in any nightmare I've ever had."

Tom snorted. "Yeah, right."

The elevator dinged and Sylar stepped onto it.

"He's a hero now," she said quietly, watching as Sylar turned and looked at her as the elevator doors closed. "Besides, he's as immortal as I am, so unless we want to try killing each other for the next millennia, gifts are a good starting point."

For a moment there was silence. "You should write stories," Tom said, but he sounded more hesitant now. After all, he did know she wasn't exactly normal. He'd seen her heal on tv like everyone else. He knew her biological parents were dead, but she'd never really spoke about it to him. "Claire?"

Claire turned and leveled her gaze on him, and he stared back, his eyes widening slightly, as he realized she'd been telling the truth. She walked past him into the apartment and carefully opened the gift bag.

It was an hourglass with blue sand that set on a base that had an engraving on it. _What's past is prologue, and what is to come is up to us_, _and destiny_.

Tom came to stand beside her and read the engraving. "That sounds familiar."

Claire smiled sadly, and reached for a well-read book on her shelf. "It's a bastardization of Shakespeare." She found her page and read aloud. "'Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come, in yours and my discharge.'"

"I don't get it."

"Well, either he's about to commit murder like the characters in the play, or it's exactly what he said." She didn't bother to tell him that Sylar had read Shakespeare's greatest works several times while trapped in his own mind. Tom wouldn't understand it. "He helped me study for a Lit test a couple of semesters ago."

That was an exaggeration, since she'd pretended he wasn't there while she tried to study and he sat by as a sort of bodyguard, wanting her to acknowledge he was capable of change. Eventually, they'd gotten into a debate about Shakespeare, and it was the first time Claire had felt any sort of kinship with him.

"So what's the thing with destiny, then? Should I be jealous?"

Tom was teasing, and she knew it, so instead of reminding him of his mortality, or of the ridiculousness of the idea of her and Sylar, she smiled and kissed him. "Am I kissing him, or you?"

And snow swirled outside their window for a moment, and then was gone.

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><p>If you're curious, the snow globe is real. Things Remembered makes it, it's called an hourglass snow globe. I actually got it as a gift. It's gorgeous! Look it up! :)<p> 


	3. Dust of Snow

Whoo! Two updates at once! Already have so much of this written, it just needs polishing. Hope my choice of poem makes sense. I think of it as him describing something changing his mind. As always, don't own any rights to Heroes...

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><p>The way a crow<p>

Shook down on me

The dust of snow

From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart

A change of mood

And saved some part

Of a day I had rued.

-Robert Frost

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><p>A blizzard... a FREAKING BLIZZARD!<p>

Claire glared out her window as the snow built up against it. What had she been thinking of, loving the snow? It kept her in her apartment because there was no way she was brave enough to drive in this weather, and Tom had gone to visit his family. Luckily, she'd listened to the warnings and stocked up on food and supplies.

Ugh, and if the power went out…

Why hadn't she listened to Peter and Emma's offer to let her stay with them until the storm passed? It wasn't like Peter couldn't be there and back in the blink of an eye. Still New York to Virginia was a bit of a trip in a blizzard.

She sighed and flipped through the TV channels, finally settling on Conan. She wished she could just fall asleep.

A knock on her door made her jump, then scoff at herself.

"Claire?"

She froze for a moment, then hurried to the door, throwing it open. "Sylar?" She frowned at the couple huddled next to him. "You brought friends?"

The couple glanced at each other, and Sylar looked uncomfortable for a moment, then he grinned. "Oh come on, Claire, its cold outside. I was in the area. I found these guys broke down on the side of the road, thought I'd invite them up until their ride gets here."

Claire hesitated, and looked between the three of them. "That's all?"

"What else could there be?"

Claire looked him in the eye and raised her eyebrows. Did he think she was stupid? "You were in the area?"

"Sight seeing." He pushed his way into the apartment, and turned to speak to them over his shoulder. "What were your names again?"

The man smiled slightly at Claire. "Richard and Alice. We really appreciate it."

Claire smiled politely, her manners kicking in for the couple while she thought of ways to do permanent harm to Sylar. "Of course. Come on in. Do you want some hot chocolate?"

So the four of them gathered in her living room, drinking hot chocolate and nibbling on her stash of peanut butter crackers. Sylar had to step outside to use his phone, and came back in looking sheepish. Claire thought it was a strange look on him. "Tow truck can't be until tomorrow morning, too much snow."

"Oh." Alice frowned. "We need to find a hotel or something."

Claire shook her head. "Of course not. The couch folds out, and I've got extra blankets." She brought them the blankets and helped them set up the couch. Then she handed Sylar a blanket and pillow of his own. "Don't push your luck by saying something snarky."

He smiled down at her. "Yes ma'am."

"That almost counts." She said, but had to fight not to smile back at him.

In the morning she woke early, sighing in her bed, hating how cold it was.

"What's wrong?" Sylar's voice echoed through her room, even though he didn't speak loudly.

She yelped and cursed, rolling to her side to glare at Sylar where he sat on the floor, leaning against the wall next to her door. She could see the pillow and blanket lying next to him. "What the hell?"

"What?"

She shook her head, pulling her blankets tighter around her. "Boundaries. We really have to teach you some."

"You were dreaming. I kept picking it up. Figured I might as well be close enough to hear it clearly."

Claire felt herself blush and glared again. "Again, boundaries!"

"Are you afraid of the new Company, Claire?"

Claire stared at him, hesitant. "Why would you think that?"

"Your dreams. Being locked away, experimented on, never-"

"Shut up." She pointed at her door. "Get out." She slipped out of her bed, grabbing her robe even as he stood. "Stay out of my head."

"You aren't the only one. People have a long memory, Claire. Not everyone trusts this Company will be any better than the others."

"What do you expect me to say, Sylar? Huh?"

"Some people want to get away, start over, have normal lives, normal families." He seemed to be trying to see something in her, something she wasn't sure would be a good thing to find. "You know, the way neither of us ever did?"

"I had a perfectly normal life." She said it harshly, and sure enough he winced at the unspoken accusation in her voice.

"We have our own definitions of normal, people like us," he said softly.

Claire frowned at him a moment, angry at herself for the guilt she felt at hurting his feelings. "I'll go, since you won't." She stormed out of the bedroom, then stopped, startled at the sight of Richard and Alice sitting at her table, eating breakfast. "You cooked."

"Gabriel did. He said you wouldn't mind," Alice said, glancing between the two of them.

She turned an accusing look on 'Gabriel' but he only smirked, previous conversation apparently forgotten. "Waffles."

Alice stood suddenly and rushed for the bathroom. Claire stared after her. "You okay?"

The slamming of the bathroom door was her only answer and she turned to Richard, who looked vaguely uncomfortable. "It's normal."

The meaning behind the words hit her, and she looked at Sylar. _Normal lives, normal families_. "Congratulations," she murmured, not looking away from Sylar until Richard spoke again.

"Thanks." He sipped his coffee, looking between Claire and Sylar, then cleared his throat. "We'll be leaving soon, our ride is on its way. Thank God the weather cleared up early."

Claire nodded. She busied herself with helping herself to a waffle, and avoided Sylar's eyes as she ate and made small talk.

When Alice emerged, looking pale, but smiling, Claire stood. "Can I speak to you?"

Alice nodded, looking concerned and followed Claire into her bedroom. "Listen, do you know who I am?" For a moment she thought the woman wasn't going to answer, then Alice nodded. "Okay."

"He didn't want to bring us here, but I don't think he had a choice. It was getting too cold. He didn't want to involve you," Alice gushed. "He didn't think you'd even let him in the door."

"I don't want to know," Claire said quickly, giving her a small smile, while processing what the woman's words obviously meant. "Understand? Whoever you really are, wherever you're going, I don't want to know. I want to give you something though, okay?" She knelt and pulled a small package from under her dresser. "You know what I can do, well, my blood can do it for others." She opened the small zip case, showing her the red life within. "Needles, and a couple of vials. Just in case." She pushed it into Alice's hands. "To protect your child, understand? Emergencies only."

For a moment, Alice's eyes clouded with tears, then she blinked them away, and nodded.

Claire stayed out of their way, preparing for her own day. Finally they were getting ready to go, and Alice came to her. "May I have this glass?"

Claire blinked and nodded. "Sure, it was a dollar at Wal-Mart."

Alice smiled, held the glass, and Claire watched in awe as the glass twisted, forming a rose. Alice smiled and handed it to her. "Thank you."

Sylar escorted them out, giving her a nod and last look before she shut the door on them.

For several hours she waited, unsure what for.

When the doorknob jiggled, she felt her pulse speed up, only for it to grind to a much slower speed when Tom came in, luggage in hand. "Hey, babe, you made it through your first blizzard."

Claire stared at him, realizing that from the moment Sylar had knocked on her door the day before her boyfriend hadn't even crossed her mind. "Yeah," she said after a moment and went to him, kissing him gently, chastely.

He was normal.

She never would be.

Well, not his type of normal anyway.

She and her friends had their own definition of normal. Sylar had that right.

She picked up her cell phone and typed simply _I want in_. She saved it in her drafts, because she already knew she didn't have to send it. That would have left a trail, and besides, Rebel had a knack for finding things.

Her first blizzard could have gone a lot worse.

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><p>Review! Please? :)<p> 


	4. Blowin' in the Wind

Still don't own anything Heroes. Please review, it makes me happy and want to update more quickly.

When it comes to the Liberty Bell Center, I tried to be as vague as possible. When I saw the Bell, it was still outside.

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><p>The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind.<p>

-Bob Dylan

Not exactly poetry, I know, but perfect for this story.

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><p>As winter faded so did any hopes she had for a future with her boyfriend. He never pushed, but he was always curious about the texts she would get, sometimes in the middle of the night. He believed her when she told him there was no affair, but he wasn't quite brave enough to ask her directly about what she was doing.<p>

Claire had no idea how to explain it to him. _Well, dear, the truth is, I'm committing illegal acts and smuggling human beings. No, not illegal aliens ,not exactly, just people like me_. Yeah, that conversation wouldn't go well.

The final proverbial straw on the proverbial camel's back came when she came home from one of her impromptu assignments and found him sitting on the balcony waiting for her. The wind pulled the door out of her hand and slammed it shut, announcing her arrival. She hadn't bothered with the 'Hey, honey, I'm home.'

He didn't look at her, instead looking out over the buildings next to them. "I called your dad, to see when you'd be home. He said you didn't work today."

Damn. She kept silent, simply watching him.

"You don't trust me. Whatever you're doing, it's something you won't tell me about."

"I don't think it would be a good idea."

"You're lying to me, though." He met her eyes, and she didn't argue. "I'm not stupid. I figured out a while ago that you're doing something that I can't know about, for whatever reason. If you don't trust me enough to tell me, then you never will."

"You're not one of us," she said quietly. "I truly don't believe you'd ever understand."

"And you're not going to explain it to me. Something happened, during the blizzard?" He nodded when she was silent, some inner question answered.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Really, I am."

"Yeah. Yeah, so am I."

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><p>It didn't take her long to decide to move to New York. Her family was there, her friends were there. The Company was there. It was a big city to get lost in, and she could do a lot of help there for specials. Another big plus was the way almost any surrounding city was easily accessible with little hassle.<p>

Her parents helped her find an apartment. She absolutely refused to let Angela pick one for her. She didn't need a penthouse. Between her parents, and Peter, she managed to fit most of the boxes in.

She fell asleep early, and wakened in the dead of night, confused as to what had woken her. She sat up, reaching for her gun on her bedside table, but heard nothing. Still, paranoia is useful.

She walked into her kitchen, and then stopped, seeing the grandfather clock that had appeared in her living room. A note was taped to its base, which was open just enough to reveal a secret compartment inside.

_ Just in case. _She recognized the handwriting from a hundred notes slipped to her over the past couple of years, and earlier than that, from a chalkboard on one of the strangest days of her life.

Sure enough, the base was large enough to hide several things, and Claire immediately started keeping her flash drive in it, since it held all the information she had on the families she'd helped to hide.

When Peter and Emma showed up the next day they both look startled to see it, although Peter looked slightly suspicious.

"It's beautiful," Emma commented.

"It was a gift, from a friend," Claire said.

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><p>The next day when she woke up a text awaited her on her phone.<p>

Per the instructions she made her way to the Liberty Bell Center.

"You know, I'm not sure I've ever been here." Wind almost snatched his words away, but she turned, startled to see Sylar.

"What are you doing here?"

"Stalking you."

She rolled her eyes, and turned away, looking over the people as they milled the area. When he didn't move away she sighed. "I've never been here either. Thought I'd take advantage of my day off." She shivered slightly as wind gusted through her thin jacket. "It's a windy city."

"That's Chicago. This is the city of brotherhood, or something."

Claire glared at him, and checked her phone. She glanced around and headed for the Liberty Bell Center.

He pretended to ignore the glare and followed her. "Guess we both got similar texts then, although yours probably didn't come with the warning label."

Their conversation was interrupted as they went through security. Claire winced when they checked Sylar for weapons. She was tempted to say he didn't need a gun, he was a living weapon. Instead she waited patiently for him and raised her eyebrows at him. "Warning label?"

"Can be dangerous. Took out Danko's men. Take care of her. I'm thinking the 'her' is you."

Claire groaned. "Does no one realize I'm indestructible?"

"Indestructible without any offense. Great combo." He gave her a sideways look as she walked towards the bell itself. "I didn't expect to see you doing this."

"I did this before you did," Claire said with a smirk. "Technically."

"Oh?"

"I have friends that were a part of Rebel, before. An ex-boyfriend, for one. Also, Micah and I bonded over hot chocolate and conversations about dead parents." She winced after mentioning her parents. "Sorry."

To his credit, he didn't bother asking her why. Instead he watched her. "I can't believe you trust me enough to tell me who works with Rebel."

Claire gave him a steady look. "Micah and I also talked about you. You probably know more than I do about who works for Rebel."

He didn't argue. "Still, it's a sign of trust. You let me spend the night in your apartment, in your room. You haven't told me to get lost once."

"Get lost," she ordered dryly. When he didn't move she rolled her eyes. "Oh yes, that was so effective. For the record, by the way, I didn't _let_ you sleep in my room." She glared at him, then sighed, "You're the one I didn't expect to see working with Rebel."

He hesitated. "Did Micah tell you I almost killed him once?" At her nod he looked startled, but continued. "I know better than most, what the Company has done to _learn_ about those of us with powers."

"You want to prevent that?"

"No one should be made into a monster. I wasn't the only one they did that to." For a moment he looked far away. He shrugged. "I have a lot to make up for."

Claire looked over as a woman approached them, looking nervous. "Showtime."

Not long after they stood together at the 30th Street Station watching the woman fade away in a crowd of people boarding a train that could take her anywhere with her new identity.

"I didn't think she was that scary," Sylar remarked with a smile.

"She wasn't staring at you with heat lasers." At his smirk she frowned. "I'm serious! Heat beams from her eyes! Freakin' Superman, or technically Supergirl…. Okay, maybe not because she's obviously not indestructible."

Sylar grinned at her babbling. "Hungry?"

They found a hole in the wall restaurant, avoiding the tourist traps. They had to take a table outside, but the wind had died down and it was almost warm. "Spring's practically here," Claire said, smiling at the thought.

As if to prove her wrong, a cold breeze blew past, leaving her shivering while Sylar smirked.

"I hear you're Peter's best man."

Sylar looked conflicted. "Yeah. I'm not that excited about it."

"Why?"

"Surrounded by people that hate me, dressed in a tux, forbidden to use my powers no matter what anyone says to me. Not looking forward to it."

Claire laughed at his dismal tone. "I thought you would want that, to prove you're changing."

"If anyone thinks I haven't, they're not going to change their mind." He shrugged. "Peter's the closest thing I have to family now, though. I wouldn't have turned him down."

"I hate looking for gifts for weddings, and they both already have everything." She glanced at him and frowned at the way he'd frozen. "What is it?"

"I have to buy a gift, too."

Claire tried, she really did, but she couldn't help it, laughing out loud, bordering on hysterics almost. "You're Sylar. You're the most powerful one of us, and the scariest when you try." She giggled again. "You're scared of buying a gift?"

"Do you know what to buy for a wedding gift?"

"That's the beauty of google and online shopping," Claire said with a laugh. "Besides, remember that hourglass you got for me for graduation? I was thinking something along that line."

He blinked at her. "You still have that?"

Claire shrugged. "Somewhere." Sitting on her bedroom dresser, where she saw it every morning when she woke. A glass rose sat next to it.

"That was easy."

She blinked at his words, confused.

He read her look. "Your gift, it was easy. As soon as I saw it, I knew it was you."

Claire ignored the way he said it so easily, like he really knew her that well. An idea formed in her mind, and she smiled slightly. "Trust me?"

"Not with that look on your face. Why?"

"What's your price limit on your gift?"

"Again. Why?"

She rolled her eyes and started gathering their trash. "I have an idea. I'll have to ask Angela for a favor but-"

"No way," he said firmly.

"She owes me a favor or two, don't worry."

"Still no. That woman is…" He stopped at the look on her face, then shrugged. "Your grandmother and I should bite my tongue."

"I said don't worry. You said you trusted me, come on."

He sighed. "Actually, I said I don't trust you."

Claire ignored him, plotting, and walked out of the restaurant, the wind blowing in her face. He followed without complaint.


	5. Feel no Rain

Still don't own it! Please forgive me for taking so long to update! Real life is so time-consuming! :) I swear I'm back to work on this, and will update again within the week!

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><p>Now you will feel no rain, For each of you will be shelter to the other – Apache wedding blessing<p>

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><p>Outside the reception hall rain fell in sheets, drenching anyone brave enough to venture out into it. It had started suddenly, destroying several news crews' chances of filming the event taking place inside. One crew, who had a tendency to refer to specials as 'freaks,' actually found their equipment so soaked they weren't sure it would ever work again.<p>

Inside the reception hall, the married couple danced, surrounded by their family and friends.

Claire had come with her parents and Lyle, wearing a dress her mother had helped her pick out, ignoring Angela's expensive suggestions completely.

Sylar thought she glowed. He watched her dance and smirked, though he was careful not to let her see it, or anyone else for that matter.

The cheerleader who had outsmarted him and always stood up to him, regardless of her fear. He sometimes wished he could go back and tell himself to stay the hell away from Odessa, but he always talked himself out of it just before he could head off to find Hiro.

He knew that what was years to him and Peter were only minutes in reality, but it still bothered him when people didn't understand that yes, they were friends now. He knew that Parkman actually felt guilt at times when he looked at him and Sylar appreciated it.

He knew how much he had changed, and some of his almost-friends show him that by giving him a chance every day.

Still, even he was surprised when Peter had asked him to be best man. He did his duties well, he figured. So-called duties complete, he sat in the shadows, trying to keep out of people's way. Out of sight, out of mind, or that's the plan.

Did watching her the way he was count as stalking? It's not the first time, and he was sure, with eternity ahead of them, it won't be the last. Still they made a deal, and while he'd counted lots of little moments, she'd never made a gesture large enough to end the deal. He'll keep his word.

He watched her end the dance with a beaming smile and not for the first time debated shifting just enough to be unrecognizable, just to be able to hold her in his arms for a dance.

She doesn't hate him, he knows that. It wouldn't even be a stretch to call them friends. They've fought together, bled together, worked together. They've shared meals, and fears, and hopes. If they aren't friends, he's almost afraid of what they are. Hell, he let her talk him into trusting her taste on wedding gifts.

On his feet before he's even really sure what he's doing, he approached her, wanting to tease her about her dress (she's the most beautiful woman there), or about her lack of a date (really was she desperate), or double check with her about the gifts they bought (yes, he knows it was a perfect idea, but he can't just tell her that, can he?).

He was almost to her when the newly married couple sat down to open gifts. He caught Claire's eyes and raised his eyebrows at her. She almost rolled her eyes at him, he can tell. Instead she motioned for him to sit, and sat at the same table. She wanted their gifts to be opened last, and somehow Angela had arranged it that way.

He hates that woman. In his mind she will always be the master manipulator, and the monster who kept the truth about his true family from him.

He watched the happy couple open all the other gifts, and he saw how happy they were even with the stupidest things like a toaster.

Claire was a genius.

The final gift, a large suitcase on wheels was presented to Emma first. "From Claire…. And Sylar?" Emma wasn't maybe aware of all he used to be, but she knew about the tension between former boogeyman and former cheerleader.

Peter ignored the tension and grinned. "Couldn't afford wrapping paper?" It's a joke between Peter and Sylar, since his alchemy pretty much guaranteed he could afford anything.

Emma murmured something to Peter that made the groom reach for the suitcase, and grunt at its weight. "It's Jimmy Hoffa isn't it?"

Several guests laughed and the tension faded as Peter unzipped the bag. He frowned and pulled out two newspaper wrapped circles. He hands one to Emma and they tore into the paper. "Wow… map plates?" He held up the plates that have maps on them, but Emma was quicker on the uptake and reached into the bag again, pulling out two paper wrapped tubes. They were revealed to be two glasses, one decorated with images of Paris, and the other of Italy. Finally, Peter pulled out a plastic tub, which said on the side 'sandy feet casting kit.'

They were both grinning, and Sylar again thought of Claire's genius.

Angela had the final gift brought out to them. "This is from me. Claire's idea for wrapping."

It was a large poster tube, and Emma opened it, sliding the poster out.

"It's a map of the world, and you can scratch off where you've been, with a coin," Claire said helpfully, waiting patiently as Peter translated for Emma.

Emma beamed, and held up what were obviously two airplane tickets. Peter grinned back at her. "So what are the plates?"

"Berlin and London," Sylar said when Claire looked at him expectantly.

"Thank you," Emma said.

With presents done dancing resumed, and Sylar stared again as Claire twirls in the arms of her uncle, and then their assorted friends. Emma pulled Sylar to his feet and forced him to dance with her to not one, but two songs. If it was anyone else he might have committed homicide.

He escaped back to his shadowy corner and his eyes found Claire again. She was being chatted up by some guy, no one he knew, and while polite, she was obviously looking for a way out.

It was something he could hold over her, he knew, so he stood and made his way over quickly. When the guy just gave him a dirty look and continued trying to flirt, Sylar cut him out of the conversation by pulling Claire onto the dance floor.

Claire made a strange noise and he looked down, expecting to see her angry face. Instead she was shaking in laughter, and she actually hid her face against his chest as they danced, making him grin too. He didn't even care that at least a quarter of the guests were staring at them, a couple of them with violent death looks.

"Oh my God, I didn't think I was going to get away," she giggled quietly.

"That's what I'm here for, your own personal hero," he said drily.

That sent her into more giggles.

They spent the next hour near each other, talking quietly, dancing occasionally. Sylar wanted to tease her about how nice she was being to him, but he knew it might make her avoid him in the future. Besides, this was a social event, they were allowed to talk.

Molly Walker approached them almost warily, and Sylar was careful to sit very still, the young girl's fear of him obvious. "Dad said you wanted to talk to me."

Sylar froze, his eyes not moving off of Molly, but he could feel Claire shift next to him slightly, setting her hand on his arm. Encouragement. Distantly he saw Matt watching them, and he didn't have to read the other man's mind to know he had set this in motion. He understood.

A large gathering of heroes, it was probably the only way the girl felt brave enough to come near him.

He didn't blame her. Next to Claire he had probably harmed her the most, killing her parents, and then terrorizing her when he wanted his powers back and came to Mohinder.

"I'm not sure what to say to you," he said quietly, honestly.

Molly frowned at him. "Micah told me that you maybe didn't really have a choice; that you were like his mom."

"No. I knew what I was doing. I knew it was wrong, and I wanted to stop, but I didn't." He shook his head. "There are no excuses. I am different now, though. I swear that to you."

"Why should I believe you?"

"I do," Claire said quietly beside them and they both looked at her, startled. "He has changed Molly."

Molly frowned at Claire, and there were tears in her eyes. "New beginnings. That's what Dad said, right before he sent me over here."

Claire smiled, and stood, taking Molly's hand and led her to the window that was nearest them. "Rain is supposed to be good luck on wedding days. Why, I don't know," she laughed softly. "It also means new beginnings. Washes away the old, all of that."

"It's also a fertility symbol, which is probably why it's associated with weddings." This came from Sylar where he stood several feet behind them. Both girls turned to glare at him and he shrugged, then walked away from them at Claire's look.

Molly smiled sadly at Claire. "I don't know if I can forgive him."

Claire smiled and swept Molly's hair away from her face. "Can you keep a secret? As much as I… I know how much he's changed, there are still nights I wake up trying not to scream from a nightmare I had about him. He was our boogeyman, Molly. I understand that. He's saved my life, though, and looked out for me. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to look at him without thinking about the fact that he murdered a lot of people, my parents, and yours, included. When I think that, though, lately, I think of all the people I know he's helped. Maybe you could try doing that. He's making up for what he did before, bit by bit. I promise."

Molly nodded. "Okay." She turned and walked to where Sylar stood, leaving Claire at the window. "I'll try to forgive you."

Sylar looked down at the girl, pain in his chest at what he'd heard Claire say, and at the thought of all he'd done. "I'll keep trying to make it up to you."

Molly went towards her father, and a moment later Claire came to stand beside Sylar. "How much did you hear?"

"Does it matter?"

"No." Claire hesitated slightly, then took his hand and squeezed it once before letting him go. "I think you're a good man, Gabriel."

He squeezed his eyes shut and when he opened them again, she was gone.

He went home and stared out into the rain.


	6. Furnace of this Hour

Nay more, I think some blessèd power

Hath brought me wandering idly here:

In the full furnace of this hour

My thoughts grow keen and clear.

-Archibald Lampman

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><p>Claire groaned at the Texan heat. "How did I grow up in this?"<p>

Sylar smirked at her. "Quit being such a baby."

"It's hot!" She glared at him, and sighed. "Seriously! It's 110. At least!"

"That's true. Although, you can't even feel it."

Claire sighed. "Also true. You know, it's only about eighty right now at my apartment."

"We're here because this was once your backyard."

"This is Abilene. I mean we came here a few times, but it wasn't exactly my backyard."

"Are you going to be difficult this entire trip?"

"It's hot," she whined again, and grinned at his look.

"At least it's a dry heat." He glanced at his phone. "No new messages. Guess we're waiting." He gave her a once over look. "You look weird."

She frowned, looking down at herself. T-shirt, jean shorts, and a baseball cap. "No, I don't."

"Yes, you do." He gestured at her cap. "Rangers? Really?

"We're in Texas, weirdo, what do you expect?"

"I bet you've had that forever, just waiting on the chance to wear it."

She blushed slightly. "My dad, apparently, has a thing for baseball. I never really noticed growing up. Rangers are one of his favorite teams." She grinned at a memory. "I took him to Yankee Stadium, to see the Yankees against the Rangers."

"Who won?"

"Yankees, naturally. He bought me this. I think he was trying to be funny."

"That Noah, always a barrel of laughs."

"Hey!" She punched him lightly in his shoulder and looked around the mall parking lot they were supposed to be meeting someone at. "He's been asking me where I disappear to, you know. When I'm not working, or at school. Or with Peter and Emma. He's not stupid. I think he knows Rebel is active again. He might even know who Rebel is."

"And?"

"I don't know. I think he probably gets it, better than you'd think. I don't think he'll do anything, if that's what you're worried about. He just mentioned it, in passing, that lot of people they used to keep an eye on, had dropped off the grid."

"For Noah, that's basically, 'Hey, I know what you're up to."

"Yeah." They were silent for several moments, watching the people going about their daily lives. "Do you think we'll always be doing this?"

He looked over at her. "I hope not. I don't like Abilene much so far."

She snorted. "You know what I mean."

Sylar looked away from her and shrugged. "I don't know. So far, it's looking like its going to be a hobby for a while."

"Eventually, things will have to change."

"Are you going to change them?" He looked at her. "Isn't that what that degree is for?"

"I'd like to change things. It's my fault we all came out to begin with."

"No, it's not, or do you not remember Danko?"

"That was my father, still sort of falls to me to fix it."

"What if you can't?"

Claire was silent for a long moment. "This is a very deep conversation."

Sylar laughed. "Yeah. Not what you planning to talk about?"

"I didn't have a plan." She smiled at him. "I'm bad at plans."

He snorted. Then, after several minutes silence, "Would it be such a bad life? Helping people?"

"Legally you mean? Or what we're doing now?" Claire grinned. "It's what I want to do. I used to get so mad at Dad, and Peter and everyone, for leaving me out. I wanted to help."

"Change takes time," he said finally.

"Well, that's not a problem for us, is it?"

They shared a look, and then Sylar straightened. "Here they come."

The small family approached them, and envelopes were exchanged, as well as phone numbers in case of future emergency. Eventually they parted ways, and Sylar and Claire watched them fade away.

"Make me a deal?"

Sylar frowned over at her. "What kind of deal?"

"Every hundred years, we meet up somewhere. Every fifty maybe, just to check in with each other. No matter what, even if we've become mortal enemies again. One day every half century, we make a truce, and meet up."

"You planning on going somewhere?" There was a slight undertone to his question, concern, maybe.

Claire hugged herself, feeling a slight chill, despite the weather. "Like you said, change takes time. Things happen, go wrong. People can't always stay together, no matter what they try." She couldn't help the slightly bitter tone that slipped in.

They stared at each other for several moments, and Claire thought for a moment he was going to do something like hug her or maybe even kiss her. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded once. "Alright. I promise. I think you're being overly dramatic, but I promise."

"Just, let's pick somewhere cooler. Literally."

"Antarctica?"

"Har har." She frowned for moment, thinking seriously. "What about Philadelphia?"

"Seriously?"

"It's the first place I got along with you at."

He considered her for a moment. "Are we friends, Claire?"

Claire frowned at him. "You don't think we are?"

"I don't know what we are. It's not like we hang out."

She snorted. "Sylar, I spend more time with you than my family."

"On jobs for Rebel. Not hanging out."

For a long moment there was silence between them. "Is this part of the deal?"

Sylar stared at her, feeling hurt flash through him. "No. I'm just curious."

Claire shifted. "I think we're friends."

"But you aren't sure?" He stood straight suddenly. "Never mind. Here, give me your hand, I'll take us home."

Claire stared at his outstretched hand, for the first time in a long time feeling trepidation. "Sylar," she said slowly.

"Don't trust me now, either? After that whole speech less than five minutes ago about how we need to meet up every fifty years? Bit hypocritical, Cheerleader."

Claire looked up at him, and saw the hurt in his eyes. Defiantly she put her hand in his. "I trust you."

A moment later she felt cool, well, _cooler_ air surrounding her.

Sylar stepped back from her and jammed his hands in his pockets. "See you later, Claire."

Claire watched him take several steps away. "Wait."

He looked back at her and she took a breath grateful for the cooler air. Her mind felt clearer suddenly.

"How about dinner? I'm starving, and I know you've got to be at least a little."

He watched her for a moment. "If it makes you uncomfortable, Claire…"

"I am not a hypocrite. I trust you. I said I did and I meant it. We are friends. Besides who else is going to put up with me over a millennia?"

"No one," he said simply, then grinned at her put out look. "I liked Philadelphia."

"Every fifty years."

He nodded. "I can't stand the heat either."

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><p>I am a horrible person who doesn't update when I'm supposed to! I promise on chocolate that I will update within the week! I mean it this time!<p> 


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